


Blade and Soul

by L_The_other_consulting_detective



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe-Djinn, Angst, DjinnKeith, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Multi, PTSD, Past nondescriptive noncon, Soulmates, Telepathy, Wish Fulfillment, alternating pov, fae
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-09-22 23:42:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17069444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_The_other_consulting_detective/pseuds/L_The_other_consulting_detective
Summary: Bound to his mothers blade in a sacrifice to save his family the Djinn Keith has spent centuries just brushing the human world.Shiro, a pilot who can't explain the crash that cost him his stability and his arm, buys a ceremonial knife on a trip to Norway.Together they must learn to navigate the forces that brought them together, the past that has left Keith scarred and closed to love, and the future that Shiro is hiding from.





	1. Blood and Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everybody knows I have no chill, so have an AU that's actually planned out. OhMYGOD I'm trying to have a real plot...anyway help me dig my own grave?

Krolia's heart is in her throat as she watches her son unwrap his gift, the long trail of cloth slowly unwinding from the blade. She and the other's of their clan, the Marmora, stand solidly, watching with pride as their youngest inherits his first blade.

She cannot know what he will face in the coming days but she can know, now, that he is armed in the tradition of their people. He holds the blade in sure hands, violet light reflecting in his blue eyes, creating a night scape there as the small knife twists into a full sword. The silence is broken by the sound of many mouths crying his name and he looks forward, standing tall.

Her son. She steps forward with Kolivan, prepared to complete the ritual, to bond him to their clan as a full member but a terrible feeling washes over her, stopping her.

 _"Zarkon."_ Kolivan's voice is anger incarnate and her son, her strong lovely boy, chokes as a thick hand appears around his throat, the sorcerer materializing beside him.

"Kolivan." He squeezes harder, lifting their youngest off his feet but he doesn't drop his blade, instead he raises it, stabbing the beast in man's guise and Krolia cries out. Zarkon's eyes turn to him and he flexes his fist, blood vessels bursting in her son's eyes as his mouth gapes. 

"Stop. Please, stop!"

Zarkon's fist loosens enough to allow the boy to breathe and Krolia curses her own weakness. 

"He is precious to you. Precious as my wife was precious to me."

Krolia remembers Honerva, she had been a valued friend and strong ally, Zarkon her husband had been warm if sometimes too forceful and they had wielded great power for good but her curiosity had drawn her to the dark. Krolia remembers how sick she'd become, the way that she had faded, begging the Marmora to kill her before the disease could run its course. She also remembers the way that same darkness had consumed Zarkon, twisted him and given him a new companion, a woman hunched and robed that stank of decay. Her fear for her son is mind-numbing.

Whispers slink between the Marmora standing frozen, fear for their youngest holding them in place as they wait to see what is going to happen. The whispering rises in pitch, wrapping around her son and Krolia takes another step forward, Zarkon's face tightens and pain swallows her, choking her and making her shake as she leaves the ground.

Her kit's cry follows her and it is far worse than the pain. She can make him out through the haze, his eyes rolled back and he goes limp in Zarkon's hold, her heart sliding through her twisting ribs.

The pain ends abruptly and her son's eyes are glowing violet, focused on her now, thin leather wraps his wrists. She watches, waiting for the horror to continue but instead Zarkon releases her son and he strides forward.

Her eyes blur with tears as her kit touches her shoulders, "I'm sorry."  

There's great power in him now, the light washing out of him eases the ache of her muscles and gives her hope, or tries to. Her terror for her child over-rides it and he leans forward to touch each cheek to hers, a farewell they reserve for their dead alone.

"I love you."

Krolia sobs harder, reaching for him but he steps out of her reach, nodding to Kolivan who looks as torn as she feels.

"May your steel be eversharp."

Then he's gone, his blade, newly acquired, glows with the same light and Zarkon lifts it off the ground, pleased.

"What have you done?" Regris tears himself free of the holding spell, reaching toward the blade. Zarkon doesn't move, but the Marmorite crumples and Krolia feels the anguish of his loss through the bond. The bond her kit would never know.

"I have done nothing. You're son has agreed to a trade and saved you all. Rejoice, for one of your number has joined the mightiest of martyr's. He has become a great Djinn!"

Krolia could hear the anger bubbling behind her, her own rage allowing her to move, bladeless as she now was, but Zarkon vanished as quickly as he'd come, taking her son's bound soul with him.

In a language no one living could have translated she screamed her anguish to the heaven's, asking for vengeance and her son's protection, her son who hadn't even been given his true name yet, forever a kit.

In the cold, glittering distance the soul of a star woke to the sound of a mother's pain, his companion stirring from her long rest beside him.

* * *

 

Geometric blue lines catch Keith’s eye, the robes billowing around one of the lords from the south, and he stares at the strange patterns and fabrics hungrily. The wide swath of grassland is a feast for his senses. He doesn’t get out much.

He laughs at himself, tearing his gaze from the man’s outfit and putting his mind to task. Of course he doesn’t get out much. Fifty years bound to his mother’s sword doesn’t allow a Djinn like him much time to explore. Thank the Gods for Lotor.

The willowy man had found him hidden in the back of his old house and with him Keith had been allowed free of the blade for the first time since his father died. He concentrates on the weapons the southern lords carry, willing them to fail and he feels his magic respond easily.

This is Lotor’s second wish and Keith can feel the giddy elation bubbling under his skin, the knowledge that soon he’ll be free. It’s been more than a year since Lotor found him and Keith can’t wait to be with his lover, human and soft, as Lotor is. As soon as they finish here, when Lotor talks these men down, gets them to admit their wrongs he’ll use his third wish.

Keith knows he’s lucky. Most Djinn spend millennia in service, bound until they forget themselves, becoming powerful but corrupted, but he’ll have served less than one human lifespan. The anticipation curls in his stomach even as he listens to Lotor handling the men. They seem to be amicable the longer his lover speaks and he allows his attention to drift.

He's still pleasantly sore from their morning activity and Lotor's fond smile lingers in his mind. It's hard to restrain his magic, linked as it can be to his emotions, from causing flowers to bloom and something not unlike drunkenness in humans. He's so close to real joy he feels almost dizzy with the knowledge. Just a little longer.

They’ve worked hard to get here, Keith’s magic and Lotor’s focus becoming a perfect pair. Keith has even found a way to work his magic for Lotor that doesn’t require wishes, just some creative thinking on his part. He gets caught up in daydreaming about just lying in bed with Lotor, sleeping the whole night after they make love instead of having to return to the blade naked and sticky. So caught up he almost misses the words that destroy him.

* * *

 

Norway has been so lovely. Shiro hates to say goodbye to the beautiful island Tromsø where he has spent most of his stay. When he’d said he needed to get away, to try and resettle himself after the events that had led to the loss of his arm most of his friends had assumed he’d go home to Japan. He loved his country but it wasn’t the sort of away he needed.

Tromsø had been perfect. Different and colder, the city above the Arctic Circle with its wooden houses and famous cathedral had given him respite. His last hours in the city are upon him and he’s happily wondering a few shops a bit removed from areas he’s been before. A store, whose name he couldn’t say even if he’d properly understood the language, drew him in. A short knife rested in a case in the window, its blade a soft grey that seemed to reflect purple in the light and a strange symbol was carved into the hilt.

Shiro liked blades as well as anything but this one was so different than the others in the display window and he was hoping to find something to bring home. He steps into the store and a voice greets him, first in Norwegian and then in halting English when Shiro gives a sheepish smile. He knew just enough for an emergency.

He makes for the blade in the window, not touching it but examining it closely. Near to it he would swear it had a life too it and without overthinking it much, he buys it. The shopkeeper slides on a pair of gloves before handling it and wraps it carefully for Shiro’s flight home and it is his.

-

Shiro hardly thinks about the little knife again, leaving it in the front pocket of his suitcase for several weeks after he returns home. It’s not until Matt starts freaking out about replica swords while they’re having bi-weekly nerd night that he remembers it…

Morning light is his worst enemy, he’s certain of it. He glares at the ground, still too bright, and gives Matt the finger as his friend laughs.

“C’mon Shiro, you have to admit it might be fun!”

Shiro _really_ should have slept last night but Pidge is a devil and knows how to keep him energized enough to pull an all-nighter with the siblings Holt. The headache is so not worth it and it compounds as Matt keeps needling.

“I can’t see that going well.”

Matt scoffs, “Dude, did you just try to make a blind date pun? Lame.”

Shiro figures that flipping someone off twice in less than a minute is going to make the gesture lose its affect. Matt leans against his car, his teasing smile softening as Shiro tears his gaze away from the ground long enough to glare.

“Seriously man, you should think about it.”

He knows Matt cares, that he thinks it might help him to have someone to rely on again, the way he had with Adam, but he can’t will himself to agree with the whole set-Shiro-up-with-a-guy-from-Pidge’s-class plan.

He gives Matt a half smile and slides into his seat, watching Matt back away from the door so he can close it. He waves a little and heads home.

Exhausted as he is, Shiro hasn’t forgotten the knife and he digs out his suitcase to retrieve it, expecting the wonder of it to have faded. The neat little package is tucked where he left it and he sets it on his desk before he changes, thinking about just going to sleep and looking at it later.

He can’t shake the thought of the pretty blade though and he returns to it, fingers shaky. 

* * *

“Isn’t he? He’s my Djinn you know.”

“Oh?” The other man raises an eyebrow, looking Keith over slowly, taking in his fair skin and soft dark hair, “We would happily sign your treatise and I would consider it a personal favor, if you would but share him with us.”

Lotor laughs and Keith startles, lips curving into a sneer because of course he’s not to be shared but-

“I would be happy to, but that’s not how his magic works you see.”

The man shrugs easily, “It was not his magic I was wanting.”

His gaze rakes over Keith again and the Djinn feels something cold and dangerous creeping over him. He looks at Lotor desperately, he knows the man is ambitious but he _loves_ Keith, he would never. Lotor gives him a considering look and Keith is about to vanish, returning to the pocket universe of his blade but Lotor speaks first.

“I wish for you to share yourself, your body, and build an unbreakable bond with our new allies.”

Keith stares at him, the world he’d built in his head, the happy human life with someone who loves him crumbles around him. The third wish, his freedom, gone.

“You-You promised!” But he can’t fight it and the curve of Lotor’s smile tells him the man knows what he’s done. He could’ve wished for Keith to enjoy at least, to lose himself to the haze the magic could make, but he’d not even granted him that mercy.

The magic in his blood binds him tight to the wish, he has no choice as the southern lord takes his hand, leading him toward the rest of his men. He is seated on the man’s lap as the others hurry to erect something like a camp, despite the sun overhead. He can practically smell the arousal that stirs as the word spreads that they will have a Djinn, that he has been compelled to give himself.

He will have no way to block it out, not since it must be his will that he follow through. Truly for the first time he loathes his magic. It was the one thing he’d come to enjoy about his imprisonment in the blade but it had never been used against him like this. Lotor sat across from them, his eyes trailing after some of the younger members of the group and Keith, rendered unable to harm him by the magic between them so long as Lotor had unfulfilled wishes, swore he would see crows feast on Lotor’s corpse.

Even with the vitriol in his thoughts his heart breaks, the love he's so looked for scraping the shards from his chest and he swears when this is over, he'll never do it again. Never give his heart again.

* * *

 

Shiro slides his fingers under the tape, the irony that a blade would make this easier is not lost on him. He peels away the wrapping, breathing out slowly when he’s revealed the blade. It’s just as captivating here in his room as it was in a window in Norway and he it makes him feel better. He stares at it for a long moment before he reaches to touch it, fingers brushing over the metal.

It’s strangely warm and he smiles, lifting the handle and thumbing the metal to test its edge. He keeps his touch light but a bead of red still slides down and he supposes he shouldn’t be so surprised but he’d assumed it was too ornate to be so well honed.

He sets it back down carefully and goes to the restroom, thumb pressed to his lips as he fumbles in his cabinets for a small bandage. Shiro finishes and yawns widely as he returns to his room, fully intending to sink into his mattress and _die._

He doesn’t get that far. There’s someone already sitting on his bed and years of Garrison training kick in as he slides into a subtly defensive stance. Find out who they are, why they’re here, disable if possible, get clear if not. He breathes slowly as they face him.

Beautiful.

His intruder has a lovely face, dark hair and eyes that catch the light of his lamps, burning into Shiro has they assess each other. The bow of the stranger’s lips pulls up as his mouth twists and he stands, reminding Shiro with the smooth motion that this is dangerous.

“When did you get in here? Why?”

The lovely stranger’s expressions settles on a glare, cold fire now, “I came in when you brought me. I’m here because you have my blade. Look, I will skip all the questions that normally come up. I’m Keith. I’m a Djinn, my soul is bound to that,” he points to the knife on Shiro’s desk, “blade. I _can_ actually prove it, I’m older than I care to tell you, and yes the usual rules apply. Three wishes, no wishing for more, no bringing back the dead, etc. Aladdin’s got it nailed. Now, you woke me, what do you wish?”

He finishes, arms crossed and his expression irritated and closed. Shiro just blinks at him because _whoa._ There’s a whole new sort of crazy person standing in his bedroom and the only thing Shiro can think to say back to his speech is, “For someone so old you sound pretty modern.”

The stranger-Keith apparently-blinks and his irate façade gives way to a bemused sort of uncertainty, putting him on more even footing with Shiro.

“I-yeah, yes. I’ve served in the last decade, it’s rare that I’m woken so consecutively but it does happen. Now, what do you wish?”

Shiro scoffs, “I want you to leave my house, I’m giving you the out before I’m forced to alert the authorities.”

Keith rolls his eyes, “Fine.”

Shiro is surprised, he thought it would be harder. Then everything in his room lifts a foot in the air, including him.

“Fine, I’ll prove it so we can move on. I’m not crazy."

Shiro twists, heart beating hard and a serious of loud pops has his breathing going funny, the fireworks Keith has conjured, pretty lights swirling in the air blur together as the memory drags him down, the lack of control, the noise…

_A woman is whispering to him, her voice scratchy and strange and Shiro knows he needs to open his eyes, needs to put his hands back on the controls of the plane, needs-needs-_

_The pain is a slow heat that flares into searing agony and then into pain so bad it is ice, his eyes are open now, unseeing still. The woman is still whispering, her voice is cruel and Shiro can taste metal, he lasts long enough for the yelling to reach a crescendo and then he knows only darkness._

* * *

 

Keith aches to his soul and he’s filthy to further. His cheek is rubbed raw from the many times it’s been pushed to the ground and if he wasn’t certain of his immortality he’d say he was going to be paralyzed. A numbness had spread through his extremities some hours ago and he was grateful for it.

Lotor had watched him with the last one, amused and curious and Keith had wanted to taste his blood. He had left after the signing, claiming a need for haste and pausing long enough to brush a hand over Keith’s bare spine, “You’ve been ever so fun lovely. I hope the eternity of darkness is as miserable and lonely as you fear and I hope that I might meet you again sometime.”

Keith had tried to struggle but he had not yet finished the final wish, “You’re a monster.”

Lotor had tutted at him and tapped a finger to his sore mouth, “and you’re barely even a whore.”

Then he was gone, all of Keith’s desire for life trodden into the earth behind him.

There was no salve for this, no words of comfort, nothing. He lay against the grass and mud where he’d last been taken and he listened to the breeze, ignoring the voices of the men. He would have only this moment before another man came and his power would bend him to its will. He could see the first star rising on the horizon and he cast his own wish toward it.

_If I cannot have a reason for living, let me become dust._

* * *

 

His alarm really needs to be changed, it’s been the same catchy song for long enough that he’s pretty sure if he hears it again he’s going to claw his ears off. He slaps his hand down on his phone, jabbing the general area for it to stop and pushing himself up. His bed is a mess, the blankets are swirled into a nest around him and frankly, it’s the comfiest fucking thing.

He flops back into, huffing as he tries to remember when he went to bed. Then he remembers Keith.

He’s out of bed in a second, staring around his room wildly, aware that he’s been dressed in his sleep clothes and that he certainly hadn’t been in the right mind to set his alarm. There’s even, upon further investigation of his definitely Keithless room, a glass of water of the nightstand and a plate with warm toast.

It seems a bit silly to be as wary of toast as he feels. Without touching the offering he searches the house, checking his spare room twice when he thinks he hears the closet door click on its track. There’s no one there when he wrenches it open and his front door is almost suspiciously untouched. He knows how to look, or so Shiro thinks, but there’s no signs of anyone forcing their way in, no scrapes or unlocked windows.

That leaves just the one option really. It’s not an attractive one.

Though Keith certainly is. Wow. Alright, Shiro shakes himself, he must really need to get out more.

Feeling more like he’s in some hidden camera show than he’d like, Shiro retrieves the knife from his desk, the vibration of warmth, life, seems more obvious. It doesn’t ease his nerves. He lightly touches the blade to his thumb, just about the sliver from yesterday and watches a little drop roll down.

It shouldn’t feel like he’s holding his breath, after all there’s no way any of this is real. The memory of floating, of fireworks and no control is one he shoves away, it’s too much evidence that Keith isn’t some crazy intruder.

Nothing happens and he relaxes, settling the knife back on the mess of wrapping paper on his desk. He’ll still keep it, just maybe in a nice box or something. He laughs at himself a little, chalking the fireworks and the panic up to a dream, and turns around.

“Hey.”

Keith is looking at him expectantly, sitting at the end of his bed. He’s dressed in tight, dark jeans and a loose burgundy shirt that exposes his collar bone. There’s leather wrapped around one of his arms and his combat boots are tightly laced.

“Keith.” Shiro breathes his name, taking some time to just stare at the other.

“You’re not a dream then.”

Keith looks almost chagrinned this time, the ire he carried has eased, “Yeah. I’m not a dream and you’re not crazy or anything. I’m sorry about the…thing…I did yesterday. Most people sort of freak out for a minute but you…I’m sorry.”

Shiro cringes inside but manages to hold a neutral expression. He knows why the lack of control, feet off the ground and loud noise crackling around him undid him. He’s not sure if he did anything or just passed out but he’s also not about to tell a stranger all of his hang-ups. Still Keith is sitting quietly, waiting patiently for his response and he’s significantly less demanding.

“I would say it’s alright, but it’s really not. You could’ve just talked through things with me and made like, a lamp float around or something smaller. You didn’t know and I…well I guess I have to believe now. So here we are.”

Keith looks him over carefully and Shiro shifts uncomfortably, there’s nothing malicious in his gaze but there’s nothing gentle either.

“You really didn’t know? You didn’t know what the knife was?”

Shiro blinks, of course he didn’t, he bought it on impulse, because it was beautiful. He says as much and is gifted with Keith’s face turning a soft pink.

“O-kay.”

They find themselves silently watching each other again. It lasts long enough that Keith starts to fidget and something of his otherworldliness settles into a more natural space in Shiro’s mindset.

"So, uh, when I'm awakened it's to grant wishes. Like I said before Aladdin rules are basically correct, I'll let you know if you have any questions but you get three of them to use however you'd like."

Shiro thinks on that, he has things he wants out of life but wishing for them, just getting them without the work seems cheap. He feels like he'd be unsatisfied with the results and then what's the point? He's about to say as much when another thought occurs to him.

"Wasn't the genie in that movie miserable?"

Keith doesn't answer, just stares at him evenly and Shiro sighs, so much for civility.

Really though, Keith should get a say in the things his magic is used for and Shiro can't shake the feeling that the Djinn isn't as content with his lot as he's playing. Mostly Shiro just hates the thought of asking for something Keith doesn't want to give, or of somehow making things worse for either of them. Wish fulfillment never ends well in the stories and he can't imagine it going much better in his own life, fate is already stacked against him.

"Look, Keith, I'm not sure how exactly my life got here but I do know that making wishes isn't going to do me any good. Things are getting better, slowly, but I'm finally not just treading water and I _like_ that I've gotten here of my own volition. So, I guess, you figure out what you would wish for and that's what I'll do, deal?"

Keith stares at him, incredulous and Shiro holds out his hand. He really hopes Keith comes up with something quickly, something not "Murder a lot of people" preferably, because this is throwing him way off balance and he's pretty sure the therapist he's long since fired would frown about it. At least, he tells himself he hopes Keith leaves him soon, honestly Shiro's enjoying being off-center.

With clear mistrust in his eyes, Keith slowly takes his hand and Shiro is surprised by the heat of his skin, the tingle that rolls up his arm. Keith stares at their connected hands and they both are slow to release the hold, Shiro because he's half-afraid Keith will vanish again and Keith because, well he seems to be confused.

"Until I give you an answer I'll stay-"

"Here. With me." Shiro is firm, he can see the way Keith is eyeing the knife and while he may not understand much yet, he can imagine a pocket dimension in a knife is neither large nor friendly. Also the many references to Aladdin Keith's made don't dissuade him from the "itty-bitty living space" idea. He's keen on learning more and he'd rather not force Keith to spend more time in solitude.

"In your room?" Keith asks, and there's something in his tone, a twist of his voice that he tries to hide that makes Shiro think he needs to tread carefully.

"My house, you can sleep in the guest room and I'll not come in unless you ask. You'll have your own space and if you want to leave you can. I'm not-Keith I don't want you to do anything because you think I've some power over you. I want you to do what makes you comfortable. I'll admit this is all...bizarre and I don't know if I've wrapped my head around it but I'm going to try to take everything at face value."

Shiro offers a small smile, noting that Keith's posture is a touch more relaxed and there's a tentative sort of hope in his expression.

"I-I would like that. I'm not always great company but if you tell me I can try to avoid anything that might be-" He frowns and makes a frustrated noise, "I don't have the right words for this, not in English."

Shiro almost smiles at that, it's been easy to forget Keith isn't the young man he appears, "Do you know them in Japanese?"

Keith brightens and nods, switching to Shiro's native language easily, " _Yes! If you tell me what I am doing wrong I will correct it. Can you show me the room?"_

Shiro smiles, it is nice to speak his mother tongue again and even if Keith's speech is more like his grandfather's than his own, it's a comfort to hear.

" _I doubt it'll be an issue, the company will be nice. We'll have to come up with a story since my friends will ask about you, but for now, you can settle."_ He steps back, allowing Keith some room and leading him to the guest room.

It's very basic, just a bed and a single lamp on a small table but somehow Keith fits in the room well, maybe it's the way that the scarlet duvet looks when he presses a hand against it.

 _"If you need anything, we can go to the store?"_ Shiro feels a bit ridiculous offering to take a Djinn shopping but Keith gives him a small smile and a shrug.

" _Maybe...May I be alone now?"_ His shoulders are tense again, expecting a no maybe but Shiro just nods, switching back to English.

"I'll be just down the hall if you need."


	2. Day .5 Keith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Clarification: The Galra are referred to at multiple points as Star-People since they came from the heavens and Keith is half Galra his other half isn't human for the purposes of this story. They are referred to as the First Children who came before humans and existed alongside them up until the birth of Christ at which point the very last of them left the planet with the few remaining Galra and their technology. The Marmora are a mix of Galra and first children. Honerva was a fae woman who fell into dark magic alongside her Galra husband Zarkon. Remnants of their influence accounts for many ancient marvels. 
> 
> Also you can always message me over on Tumblr @ Sheith-Talker

Keith watches Shiro go, sighing and gingerly sitting on the end of the bed. He wants to leave, playing nice with his captor (isn't the word so much this time?), isn't something he can keep up. Shiro seems nice, he seems caring and kind and maybe a little broken but Keith's thought as much before. His insistence that _Keith_ be the one to decide his wishes is certainly different but Keith knows humans, knows how fickle they can be.

He only hopes that the latest master makes his choices quickly, a man like him is especially dangerous to Keith. There's something soft about Shiro, about his home, the room that Keith is sitting in.

He was raised, so long ago, in a culture of battle, of knowledge over all and of the whole being more than the singular, it was the teaching that had lead him to his current fate. That same culture had valued the softness of the home and looking at the carefully chosen sheets, matching the duvet and good quality, the blinds that had been recently dusted, he could see it here. Shiro had the frame of a fighter, the injuries of one too, but his home was simply that of a man and the guilt Keith felt over the panic he'd caused grew.

He sighs, rubbing a hand against his cheek as his leg bounces, now is the time to gather information. Shiro is more relaxed today and Keith knows that he should be using the opportunity to find out more about him, what he might desire, what Keith could tempt him with. Instead he lays down on the little-used bed, muscles unclenching in a way that a temporal flux pocket universe could never allow.

He hears the shuffle of feet further in the house, Shiro moving through his home quietly. The sound should set his teeth on edge, the closed door between them might offer him privacy but it also hides what Shiro is doing, it doesn't though. He lets his thoughts drift, listening to another person's quiet existence and letting it lull him.

-

Keith wakes slowly, the room coming into focus and with it the awareness that he'd let himself sleep in a human house, in a human bed. He sits up cautiously, surveying the room for anything out of place. Nothing's been touched, he's still on top of the blankets and the sunlight across the floor tells him it's been several hours. He swallows, confused.

A sleeping Djinn was vulnerable, easy to trap and to hurt. Shiro could've forced him to use his magic without expending wishes or he could've-

Keith shuts the thought down. It's been a long time since he'd allowed himself to relax in the human world and his stomach clenches at the things that could've happened and he swears off the bed quickly, standing and glaring at it. He shakes himself, he'll just go to his knife and-

Oh. Shiro still has the knife in the other room and Keith isn't sure if he's allowed to go in there. He doesn't have to be with the knife to access the pocket dimension but he prefers to keep it on his person as much as possible and if Shiro's keeping it from him...

Keith can't leave the house.

He frowns, listening again, a tendril of magic curling its way down the hall until it touches on Shiro's room. The man is there, sitting at his desk, he's not doing anything, just looking at the blade and Keith's stomach drops. He can't sneak in and get it and Shiro's examination makes him nervous. He pulls his magic away, pacing.

He doesn't want to trigger another attack but a little noise shouldn't be too bad. He reaches out again, this time to the kitchen and finds the silverware drawer, rattling the contents noisily. As soon as the sound reaches the back hall he hears Shiro get up to investigate and breaths heavily.

He only has a moment so he allows his form to fade, something that is still uncomfortable, and manifests at the desk. The blade isn't there and he frowns, turning a circle to check it didn't just get set to the side, but it's gone. Keith hasn't let a human hide what is his in a long time and while he can still access his dimension he only has a vague sense that the blade is somewhere in the house, nothing more specific. He shoves down the growing fear and covers it with anger.

Shiro said he was allowed to come and go as he pleased, he said he wasn't keeping Keith against his will. Keith curses the sense of betrayal he feels, the human has known him for less than a day and Keith is an idiot for hoping that it would be different this time. He knows humans, he thinks bitterly as he tugs open drawers, he knows that they lie he just...he wanted Shiro to be different.

The bedroom door opens as he's crouched to look under the desk and he jumps up, cold stare in place. Shiro pauses midstep, he doesn't look upset, just concerned and Keith is wary.

"Keith? Did you need something from-wait, did you make that noise?"

Keith can feel his brows draw together, Shiro isn't upset he just sounds polite and maybe a little worried. It puts his back up further because if there's one thing Keith _knows_ it's that humans can hide their darkness better than any other creature. He might've been something like a human once, a first child, but no longer. Shiro's kind grey eyes are disarming and it had been too long since someone had looked at him with something other than greedy speculation, he had let the wonder in Shiro knock him off-balance.

No more. Keith's magic snaps out from him, the frustration with himself feeding into his earlier anger as he binds Shiro in place, ignoring the way the blood drains from the man's face.

"Keith?" Shiro's voice is steady and soft and Keith _hates_ it.

He tightens his binding, steals Shiro's ability to speak or move. Shiro's kind eyes are wide and there's something like panic growing in them but he doesn't let it fool him. Human men especially have few desires from him other than his magic and he refuses to ever let one use him again.

He twists his fingers and Shiro is pushed against the wall, head cracking where it hits. The man winces and Keith presses him firmly, not moving forward at all.

"You said I could go as I pleased." He laughs, a harsh sound scraping up his throat, "I must've lost what mind I had because I believed you, but no more. I remember humans, hundreds of years of _humans._ Filthy things that crawl in mud and consume and ruin and plague...You who would defile the world like you defiled-" He heaves a breath and pushes Shiro harder, sliding him up the wall and ignoring the way the drywall cracks around the man, "my home. WE would not have brought the planet to the brink like _you._ We did not lie the way you do. Either make your wishes or Let." Keith pulls Shiro away from the wall and then slams him back against it, "Me." he repeats the motion, "Go!" 

He releases Shiro from his hold and the man slides to the floor, breathing hard and blinking. He strides forward, standing over Shiro as he gets his breath back and the proximity allows him to smell something sharp and familiar and-oh. There's a streak of blood on the wall and Shiro looks up at him with unfocused eyes, clearly struggling for calm as he finally speaks.

"You can go."

Keith sneers, shoves the worry and guilt creeping up his throat down, and spits out, "I can't leave the house until you return my knife."

Shiro pushes himself into a better sitting position and reaches behind himself, tilting and nearly falling over as he retrieves the knife from his pocket. He holds it out to Keith in the flat of his hand and Keith can see the shine of blood on it. He'd cut Shiro when he'd slammed him around.

"I thought you'd want it. I was going to give it to you when you came out." His voice strains around the words and Keith takes the knife, fingers curling tight around the hilt. 

"I don't want wishes Keith. I just-" Shiro presses a hand to the back of his head, his fingers come back red and sticky, "I wanted company I guess but-can you, before you go will you get my phone from the kitchen I think I need-" Shiro makes a small noise as he tries to push himself up again and Keith's throat tightens, "I think I need help."

Shiro's face is white as a sheet and there's blood and he was going to give Keith the knife. He was waiting for Keith to be comfortable enough to leave the room, he was letting Keith decide.

Keith sighs, he's fucked up again but at least there's a perk to being a Djinn.

"No Shiro. I'll hurt you, I'll fix it." He reaches out, magic crackling along his finger but Shiro shakes his head.

"I don't need wishes."

Keith frowns, "It's not a wish Shiro. Let me do this, I made the mistake."

Shiro looks at him with searching eyes and Keith holds himself still, respecting the distance as much as it rankles, until Shiro nods for him to proceed. He touches Shiro's forehead and closes his eyes, guiding the flow of energy so it knits split skin together and eases bruises and aches. He focuses harder, pushes harder and he can feel deep scars, the molting of flesh and a missing arm and he pushes his magic into them, hoping to erase some of the lingering pain he can sense in them. He doesn't mean to intrude the way he does.

Shiro's mind brushes his, a whole being scraping against everything he is and he gasps, falling on his butt from his hunched position and staring at Shiro. The other man's color has returned and he leans against the wall without any stiffness in the motion but his eyes don't leave Keith face and Keith knows he felt that.

They don't speak, just stare at each other, for a long while. Keith is still sorting the flood of emotions and the thoughts that weren't his. Humans were not unlike the first children, his people, the Marmora had been a proud clan, a mix of star people, the Galra, and first children and yet the way Shiro's feelings had spilt into the connection was _strong_.

There was fear, pain, a strange sort of acceptance in the moment but beneath had been yawning purposelessness, loneliness that rivaled the bitter shell of Keith's own existence and something sparking, just starting under it all that he couldn't grasp. The thoughts had been louder still.

_He'll go and 911...ambulances cost a lot but there's no one-_

_Should've given him the knife right away-useless Shirogane not even the bound Djinn wants to stay_

Under the thoughts a run of memory, of grinding metal and loud sound and pain that made Keith's stomach twist and another insidious little whisper that had pervaded Shiro.

The silence between them is broken in a rush of noise.

"I'm sorry I made you feel trapped-" Shiro starts, guilty and Keith almost misses the apology with how loudly he speaks.

"Do you really wish you had died?"

Shiro's expression twists and his reply is calm, empty of emotion in a way that Keith knows he is not, "I told you Keith, I have no need for wishes."

Keith leans forward, knee rising and arm draping over it and offering a little upward tilt of his lips to Shiro, "I trounced you, so you don't have to apologize." He thinks of the loneliness of the way that Shiro's thoughts had been pure, devoid of deceit and of the knife-edge will to live he'd sensed and he makes his choice, "The wishes, want them or not, are yours until you use them or you die so I guess I have to stay."

Shiro's eyebrows shoot up and he snorts, "I thought you were leaving after you rag dolled me?"

"I may have let my anger get the best of me. I can't dictate who gets the wishes."

Shiro does laugh at that, head tilting back so he stares at the ceiling, "Well, promise me you'll keep a tighter hold on that anger and maybe help fix the wall and you've got yourself a room as long as you want."

Keith flicks his magic and the cracks repair and Shiro laughs again, weary, "I meant with like, spackle, but that's certainly cheaper."

Shiro pushes himself off the floor, standing and stretching experimentally. His eyebrows tug together and Keith comes to his feet, reaching out.

"Did I miss something?"

With a shake of his head Shiro turns toward the mirror on his closet door, tugging his shirt over his head. Keith, objectively, knew that Shiro was a strong, attractive human, but the sudden reality in front of him takes a moment to process. Broad shoulders, muscles shifting under skin that looks like its meant to see more sun than it does, and scars. He knew after probing that Shiro had them but the wrap across his back and over his ribs of what looks like a chain maybe and more thick scars knitting over his back pale in comparison to the mass of tissue that extends from his arm, a pale silvery color where it connects. It's got to be something new and amazing because Keith can't remember anything like it except among the Galra and they are long gone from this world. The scarring there makes him think of skin stretching until it tears, of muscles and ligaments and bones dragging apart and of the grinding sounds in Shiro's head and he doesn't realize how hard he's breathing until Shiro turns to him.

His eyes flick to his own arm and he hurriedly shrugs his shirt back on, self-conscious and Keith curses himself.

"I'm sorry. It's not-You're..." He huffs and switches back to Japanese.

_"You are a lovely man too look at Shiro. I heard things when I healed you, private things I didn't mean too and I am trying to separate those things from myself, looking at the scars made it harder."_

Shiro crosses his arms but continues in English, "I was hoping it was the stress that made me feel...like that. Your mind is amazing Keith but I don't want to spend anymore time there any time soon. I was actually looking because there's few of the smaller scars that always pull a little but, they're gone."

Keith blinks and nods, "I don't think you'll have to worry about sharing thoughts like that again. I didn't mean to do it the first time I was just trying to heal some of the older wounds, I guess it worked."

Shiro nods but his face pinches and his hand rubs over the newly bare spot on his sternum. He takes a deep breath and shakes the melancholy that appears to have settled over him, grinning at Keith.

"You're amazing."

Grumbling Keith steps back, conscious of the space between them and how small it's gotten, "Not really. I am sorry Shiro."

Waving a hand, Shiro shrugs, "It's not been my favorite couple of days but, I'm all better now. I'm not saying it's alright what happened, again. Hey, at least being crushed to death by a hot guy's a good way to go."

Keith feels the heat of a blush stain his cheeks and expects at least some chagrin on Shiro's end but the other man looks calm, maybe even a bit smug.

"I suppose I'll make it up to you?" Keith's not sure exactly what is happening between them, this human who throws him off and who seems so sincere, even after Keith has hurt him.

Shiro nods, "You sure will. Let's start by getting something to eat and then you can tell me more about where you came from. You certainly didn't sound like you'd ever spent time with humans?"

Keith nods slowly, "I might be able to tell you some things. It's been a long time and some of it is-"

Shiro cuts him off with a gentle smile, "personal. I get that and I don't expect the full history of Keith, just tell me some stories?"

Maybe it won't be so hard, now that they've cleared the air a bit, living with Shiro. Keith follows him out of the room and tries to get a hold on the hope that bubbles in him again. His emotions are violent these days and the sudden changes are only egged on by Shiro's understanding disposition.  So, yes, he hopes that maybe he'll find a small piece of something worthwhile in his time here but he doesn't lie to himself; it's only a brief interlude in the long eternity of servitude before him.


	3. Day 1: Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops I had to world-build and uhh have a double update though this one is short.  
> YIkes, eventually the writing will settle...uhh maybe.

Keith should look more out of place in his kitchen, Shiro thinks as he watches the Djinn cut into his omelet. It's nearing noon but there's always time for breakfast food and really, Shiro's always been a practical cook. They eat in silence and Shiro finds himself easing into Keith's presence.  They are slowly becoming familiar strangers but there's a natural settling he feels and he wonders if it's to do with the accidental brush of their minds.

Now they sit across from each other at his island, grey plates against the granite counter top and grey wicker stools supporting them. The light from the windows along the east wall washes over them and Shiro's bare feet appreciate the way it warms the pale wood floors.

Keith takes a slow sip of coffee and Shiro stares at him, he wonders how often Keith has shared meals like this, how many people have really talked with him. From the way that Keith tries to discreetly examine his food and drink before he consumes it, he'd guess not often. It sends a beat of sadness through him when he thinks of the life Keith must have and a spike of curiosity at who he was  _before,_ if he was anyone.

He doesn't ask again though, just waits for Keith to tell him whatever stories he feels like and spreads jam on his toast. It's not a long wait once Keith finishes his meal, coffee cradled in his pale hands.

-

In the first days the world was filled with creatures whose energy had come to them from the roots of nature and magic: the Fae. They cavorted and laughed and fought as they pleased until they slowly grew bored of a world made only of themselves and the flora and fauna they so cherished. Together the strongest of them sang a new race, one softer and shorter lived with only a little magic in their blood and curiosity in their hearts. The First Children were given lives longer than the humans who would follow but still they existed as mere blinks to their immortal creators and for a time they were the distraction the Fae had craved.

Eventually the older race sought adventures beyond one small planet orbiting a small star and they began to leave. Their departure drew the eyes of the Star People, who called themselves Galra. The Galra came in small groups, simply observing at first but slowly they joined in the festivals and lives of the First Children.

The Marmora were the strongest clan of Galra and they choose to settle on Earth and began to take lovers of the First Children's blood. They lived happily, creating a people of iron will and strong loyalty. They had never forgotten the battles in the ancient days of the Galra and they lived by a strict code, one the soft First Children had at first seemed an ill fit for. They learned, the longer they lived together, that for however gentle they appeared the Children were fierce in their love and together they flourished.

-

Keith takes a breath and Shiro blinks, it sounds enchanting and he can imagine the strong Galra as they learned the First Children. He also sees the way that Keith's eyes have gone sad and his brows pinch.

"Did you know any of the Marmora?"

Keith stares into the coffee, nodding slowly and with a tightness to the movement that makes Shiro wonder how long Keith has lived.

"I knew many of them until the Breaking."

Shiro makes a soft sound, that should sound like a stupid movie line but the pain in Keith's tone and way his hands clench around the mug, cracking it slowly, make it a serious weight. He doesn't press but Keith continues anyways.

-

Not all of the Fae had gone, the weakest of them remained. Many faded into simple legend, kept alive only by the fear of a new race, one that had slowly evolved from the life of the planet. In the first days of their existence, they lived in strange little hovels until slowly these humans began to use the mud to build something sturdier.

The Marmora watched them in fascination, keeping the weak fae who would prey upon them at bay and giving them careful aid. They helped the humans grow and build civilizations, accepting their strange rituals as a part of the growth. The First Children slowly became guides to these stumbling new beings and with them one of the few Fae with any real power became central to many of the human beliefs.

She was Honerva, curious and hungry for knowledge and the humans feared and worshipped her in equal measure while the Marmora worked alongside her, one of their leaders taking her for his wife. Things were good for a time.

Humans though, they did not have the sweetness of the First Children or the wisdom of experience that the Galra brought and they soon set their eyes on those things the Marmora had not shared. They sought knowledge beyond what they were ready for, seeking the secrets their strange benefactors kept.

Honerva, with her reverence for truth had dug deep into the ways of magic and she could see that humans would one day be the holders of the planet. She urged the Marmora to give them all of their knowledge, to burden these beings taking but their first steps with the vastness of the cosmos but the Marmora refused her and she sought more power still. It destroyed her entirely and in her last hours she sought an old friend among the Galra and begged them to end her suffering.

There was a careful plan left to guide Zarkon through his grief, to get the Marmora off-world and ease the severing with the younger race but a human girl ruined all. She stole Honerva's body, seeking to gain Zarkon's alliance in the human quest for the Marmora's power, and brought it before the man.

From there the events became hazy, the Marmora were not aware of what was brewing, only that a precious friend's body had been taken. Their blindness would cost them dearly.

-

Keith's voice has grown bitter and his violet eyes are flickering between virulent yellow and bright blue and Shiro doesn't dare move. It's already a lot, knowing suddenly that he's part of a race so much younger than the universe, one that had gotten so much  _wrong_ about their own past. 

"They were naming their youngest, a kit who had no true name nor blade yet. The kit had finally awakened the blade but had not been named and joined with his people when Zarkon came. He threatened their leaders, captured the kit, the heart of them, and the kit was forced to make an impossible choice. He bought the Marmora time to get away but Zarkon still hunts them and he-" Keith's mug finally gives out and explodes into dust under his hands.

The sudden sound and the spray of powered ceramic breaks the spell of the story and Shiro jumps up, grabbing Keith's wrist and examining his hands for cuts. Finding the skin undamaged he hurries to clean the mess.

"That, wow, that was definitely a story."

Keith doesn't respond, staring at his hands where they lay as Shiro left them and Shiro watches his shoulders heave.

"Keith are you-"

The Djinn flickers out of existence in front of him and he hisses in shock. Right, magic. Being suddenly alone is startling and he's half through the thought of cutting himself on the knife that now sits on the stool Keith was using before he realizes Keith probably needs to be alone right now.  He grabs paper towels to wipe the dust off the table and sees the way his hands shake, the metal of his prosthetic making a jarring noise where it shudders against the counter. 

Maybe he needs the time too.

Fae, like the stories of Yokai when he was small and whole other races sprung from nature...visitors from the stars. At least Shiro knows the answer to that burning question, they are not in fact alone. He sits slowly on the floor, leaning against white cabinets and breathing out slowly. He's spent more time on the floor today than usual, he thinks this distantly, more time shaken up and alive since the moment his blood touched Keith's blade than in all the months before.

Keith. A Djinn who knew those first people, who had been pained over their loss and who spoke in the voice of someone who had seen their world crumble. Keith, who had thrashed him against the wall and who was fire incarnate and who Shiro was fascinated by. It was possibly irrational but Shiro wants to protect Keith, at the very least to get to know him.

Objectively it's a bit...terrifying, knowing that something so powerful and well, moody, is in his home. Keith has more than proven his strength and Shiro has a feeling he's only seen the fringes of his powers but at the same time, he can't shake the image of Keith's eyes widening at the first bite of breakfast. The way he had stumbled over his words and asked to speak in Japanese instead and the way that he seemed to try to wrap himself in anger and indifference but couldn't hide something curious and soft completely only made Shiro more determined to show him the things he had clearly missed.

He rubbed at his cheek, as soon as he could wrap his head around everything about Fae and Galra and First Children he had a new mission; introduce Keith to the world as it was now properly.

If that mission also happened to provide his only barely salvaged life purpose and shut up the lingering darkness that Keith had inadvertently unearthed it was just a plus.


	4. Heart Fire: Keith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a transition chapter so I mean, mostly bs I guess?
> 
> The other language is Tamil, often identified as the worlds oldest language by order of appearance it is over 5000 years old and seemed fitting to use for a race that existed prior to humans, assuming of course that the First People's language is treated as an etymological root to actual Tamil but I hardly felt like developing a whole language system for this, Tolkien level passionate I am not. 
> 
> Single Phrase: Soul Fire  
> First sentence: Heart of my soul... This you cannot be!

Time has always passed strangely in his little dark pocket universe and Keith isn't sure how long he's been gone when he flickers into existence in the guest room. The knife rests against a pillow, sheathed in beautifully tooled leather and he stares. It's never had a sheath, never needed one to protect it with the soul of a Djinn to keep the blade strong but something about the care implied in the gift warms him.

He picks up the weapon, turning it in his hands and swallowing the surge of gratitude that threatens. The leather is soft and well oiled, dyed soft lavender in the swirls that cover the sheath. It's clearly hand-made and the stitching that edges the piece speaks of true craftsmanship. He takes a moment to adjust the fastening and settles it against his lower back, leather gentle against his skin.

The sun is low in the west when he checks, red curtains soft in his hands if a bit dusty. There's nothing out the window but Shiro's backyard and the field beyond, nothing to tell him how much time has past. He rolls his shoulders and drops the curtain, better find his host.

The house is empty. The kitchen with its calm colors and the comfortable smell of tea sits silent, the living room's cozy circle of chairs and glass topped coffee table show little signs of time passing. Shiro's room is the last place he checks and Keith has to swallow the strange uncertainty when that to is empty.

Shiro must work, or exercise, or meet with friends or any hundred other mundane things and Keith isn't unfamiliar with an empty house. He dismisses the humans absence and sits on the couch, occupying himself with a mental exercise: the best way to defend the house against an infiltrating force. His imagined scenario lacks something but he doesn't want to conjure an actual series of intruders, Shiro might not care much for that.

It takes him some time to exhaust the possibilities (his walk around the house revealed a _lot_ of windows and two doors) and when he glances at the clock sitting beside the television he frowns. It's nearing ten pm and Shiro hasn't made an appearance.

He stands and stretches, resisting the worry that that whispers over him. So far Shiro's been...soft. He doesn't want anything to happen to that softness until he's had more of a chance to understand it. Keith tells himself that's why he cares, ignoring the bruised center of himself, the part of him that craves something more than a passing glance at living.

Magic has a will all its own but Keith has been a Djinn a long time and it fits over him like a second skin as he delves into the stream, searching for the connection that ties him to Shiro.

Seconds tick by and his eyes open, gold dancing across the glass table as he regains his focus. The frown deepens, pulling his features together and he takes a breath, teleporting to the outside of the bar where he'd felt Shiro. He stares at the building, brown wood made grimy by the passing of years and polluted rains, the sign is illegible at the angle Keith is looking at it from put it hardly matters, it's a bar like any other and yet still not a place he would expect Shiro to be.

He pushes through the door, a barrier of magic running over his skin and keeping him from touching anything. Keith doesn't mind the dirt of the human world much but bars are too often...sticky?

The lighting is low inside but not irritatingly dim and the place smells better than a lot of the bars Keith remembers being inside of. There's a healthy number of patrons but most are alone and calm so the noise level is tolerable.

Keith makes his way through the smattering of tables, ignoring the eyes he feels follow him as he moves. Shiro is facing away from him at the bar, from behind Keith can see that is shirt is wrinkled and his hair is messier than the last time he saw the human.

His concern spikes when he gets closer and realizes that Shiro has a neat little row of shot glasses in front of him. Humans drink often, Keith remembers plenty of examples of this, but men like Shiro typically don't.

He leans casually on the bar beside Shiro, facing the room and leaning back to look into the mans face. It takes a second for Shiro to look at him properly, focused on the phone in his hand with a frown. His grey eyes flick to the side, catch Keith's arm and trail up to his face. Immediately Shiro grins.

"Keith! You're back." He says the Djinn's name loudly but seems aware of it as the rest comes out much softer, his eyes are clear and Keith tentatively determines he's mostly sober despite evidence otherwise.

"Yeah, and you're in a bar?"

Shiro laughs, "I'm in a bar. Matt's in the bathroom and Pidge is in the back smashing the pinball high score."

Relief wars with anxiety when Keith divides the number of shot glasses by three. Shiro isn't here getting drunk alone (actually when Keith looks again he can tell only one of the glasses is Shiro's) but not being alone means Keith either needs to leave or meet more humans. Shiro's obvious joy at seeing him makes him hesitant to go so he decides to at least stay until Matt's back.

"There for a second I thought you were lamenting my absence in the oldest fashion."

Shiro raises an eyebrow, "Oh? Were you gone, I hadn't noticed." he looks around airily as though unaware of Keith and the Djinn snorts, pushing away from the bar.

"In that case I'll take my leave." He doesn't make it a step and Shiro's war hand is curling around his arm. Keith stops, willing himself not to flinch at the unexpected touch, looking at Shiro with an innocent questioning tilt of his head.

There's still mirth in Shiro's eyes but he sounds more serious, "Please, stay?"

Keith makes a show of thinking about it, sighs heavily and sits, dramatically holding himself drawn up, "I suppose I can be bothered to spend some time in your mortal pursuits." The twitch of his lips certainly gives him away and Shiro laughs again, free and happy.

"I leave you alone for a minute and you're reeling them in." Another human with shaggy brown hair and laughing eyes drapes an arm over Shiro's shoulders, leaning forward to grin at Keith from Shiro's other side.

"Would you believe he was just here moping about some guy who and I quote "seems like he should've been back by now?" Like, who would ditch this wonderful, sweet, hunk of a-"

"Matt!" Shiro's cheeks are flaming and Keith feels a twinge of sympathy.

"You were sad I was gone?"

Matt's mouth pops open in a comical "o" when Keith asks his question but there's no remorse in him as he shakes Shiro, "I'm getting Pidge."

He's gone before either of them can stop him and Shiro sighs, "I was...worried. You didn't say anything and it was a heavy conversation and then I didn't see you for almost a week. I don't know what's normal for you, but I'm glad you're back. Uh, though, please don't kill me."

Keith can't help the way he brushes his hand against Shiro's forearm, "I can't always tell how much time has passed, so, sorry." He summons the dagger into his hand, flipping the blade, "Now why would I kill you?"

Shiro groans and nods in the direction Matt disappeared to and Keith follows his nod. Matt's coming back looking too satisfied and there's a young woman with him, her hair is short enough it curls near her chin and looks a little wild and she's got Matt's mischievous eyes.  They reach the bar and Shiro looks like he's hoping that Keith will pull a disappearing act.

He doesn't do that but he does use his magic again. He looks at the three of them without the murk of the human world. Each of them is surrounded by a halo of color, the pulse of their energy and souls. The Galra called it quintessence, the First People called it சோல் தீ _,_ those in the modern era call it Aura. Keith calls it "a bad trip and too many colors for one species."

Under any name Matt and Pidge flare strong and bright, Matt's happy yellow strung with green and steel grey pulses with his laughter and shows Keith a caring but playful nature and a sharp mind. Pidge beside him is green with a touch of his yellow, years of interaction leaving their marks on each other, and her own touch of blue so bright it reminds Keith of technology. She's a genius in her own right and there's a well of curiosity and understanding in her that draws Keith's interest.

It's also the first time he's looked at Shiro's and Keith doesn't realize that they're speaking to him as he stares at the nebula that runs over Shiro's skin.

Most humans Aura's flare out from their bodies to varying degrees depending on their emotional state, usually only those who are in a deep spiral cling to their energy. He's happy right now so there's a faint bloom around him but it's not as wide as Keith expects, but the concern doesn't have time to raise its head again (and he's realizing that he's already too attached to Shiro with how much he worries). Instead Keith is captivated as he watches the slow swirl of calm violet and onyx, the black interspersed with flecks of silver. He's never seen an aura that looks so much like a starscape but Shiro's is beautiful. Keith's own burning flame of power leaps to touch it and he only barely stops himself but even brushing near to Shiro with his soul makes him feel the same as when their minds tangled. It's heady and too much and he let's go of his sight, returning to the subdued human vision with a frown.

Shiro is looking at him worriedly and Matt's eyebrows are practically in his hairline. Pidge is the only one who's not obviously fretful, instead her expression is sly and almost uncomfortably knowing.

"Sorry, I did not sleep well." Keith hurries to explain his inattention, cringing when he realizes how stiff he sounds so he elaborates, "I'm uh, Keith, by the way."

"Keith and I met in-" Shiro breaks off for a moment, grey eyes darting to Keith who just smiles, curious how Shiro's explained him.

"Yeah, Norway, you said. It's interesting that you two met there and Keith happened to be staying here afterward. What has you travelling so often?"

Pidge pushes her glasses into place as she asks but the obstruction of her finger does nothing to conceal her fierce gaze, amused but protective too. Keith doesn't blame her, finding someone countries away who just happens to coming back to your living zone? Questionable.

"My work, I freelance." He's heard it often enough as a career and it's not so different than various professions in the past. Shiro nods along, like this isn't all new and Keith adds, "Mostly I do travel photography and writing but I'm a painter at heart."

It's more true than he'd usually let on but there wasn't a hint of maliciousness in any of their auras and he needs something believable here, something he could do with or without the magic. 

"That's awesome! Do you paint what you photograph? Do you use guache? Film or digital?"

Pidge throws questions at him and Keith smiles, notes how Shiro stares and Matt looks on approvingly. She's testing him. Clever little human girl.

He waves to the bartender, settling into the group a little more and tilts his head toward her.

"I only paint what I photograph if it won't leave my head, I don't like the juxtaposition between my paintings and photographs, especially since I'm usually only being hired to do one of them. I don't mind guache, but I mix my own paints if I'm really into it, I like things with a little...older style, so yeah, I use film too."

Pidge nods as the bartender arrives and Keith can tell she's easing off a bit, since he knows what he's talking about at least a little. He orders his drink and looks at Shiro again.

The other man is relaxed and smiling, the warmth that Keith has seen in him shining through here with his friends. He decides to mostly listen and nurse his drink, laughing when it seems appropriate though, like much of the drink menu, Matt's jokes make little sense.

It's nice, even if Keith feels more out of touch than ever, to be here with happy and open people. Shiro is a burning presence in his mind, the magic between them makes Keith more aware of him than others to begin with but the more time he spends with the human, the more Keith finds himself drug into the mans orbit. He can feel the walls he's crafted cracking as Shiro leans over to him at one point in the evening to whisper in his ear.

"Matt isn't nearly this clever, I bet you most of these are from the internet. I wish I-" He pauses for a second, "I _wished_ I could print out all the posts he's stealing and shove them in his face." Shiro must see his brows draw together because he carries on, "I know you probably barely know anything about the internet but trust me, Matt's a memetic scourge."

Keith will take his word for it, especially with the way that Shiro's breath is warm against his cheek, warmer still for the way that he corrects himself and keeps himself from accidentally using a wish. It does make something low in him twist in worry though.

Once, Keith thinks as he takes a long drink, the word wish was a hushed thing, said only earnestly. Now it's as frequent as ever and he finds himself oddly wary. Shiro has already made it clear he doesn't want to use his wishes, if that's a strange play to keep Keith with him or if it's as genuine as Keith hopes, a desire not to force his will, it doesn't matter. They'll have to be careful, but he can't find it in himself to be too worried here at a table listening to the Holt siblings bicker and Shiro's laugh.

* * *

 

Matt tries to convince them to spend the night at his place but Keith is sober and Shiro is a tired weight at his side so they decline in favor of getting him back to his own bed. Pidge's eyebrows do complicated gymnastics as she walks away backwards and Keith is sure it was supposed to be some kind of message for him, but whatever it was is lost on him.

Shiro isn't drunk by a long shot but he's had enough that he's a little looser, a little warmer and it makes Keith ache. Shiro is already the kindest person he's met so watching him shuffle through getting ready for bed; idly telling Keith about how he has some time off how he wants to spend that time showing Keith new things, it reinforces how out of his depth Keith is. He can be distant, he can be harsh and cold and a being of immense age, all the things he is by nature of his magic, but it's hard not to remember the hopes he once harbored surrounded by Shiro.

It's not until Shiro is asleep and the feeling crests in his chest that Keith realizes. His own emotions can be volatile and he certainly changes rapidly at times but this is much stronger than anything he's felt before, too strong. He uses his sight again, breathless.

Shiro's aura is beautiful as it flares wide, it's tangling with Keith's, influencing his feelings. Sharing proximity can sometimes make aura's brush and those who are more receptive are certainly more empathetic but it is rare that they truly intertwine. Shiro's starlight self is blending with Keith's own fire, purple strands leaking between them, a sameness that Keith hadn't realized before and it leaves him breathless.

"Shiro, என் ஆத்மாவின் இதயம். இது நீங்கள் இருக்க முடியாது _."_

He tries to peel back his own energy, careful, but stops when Shiro makes a low noise, pained and yearning. What is happening? In millennia he has entered the human world only when called upon for wishes and very rarely on whim, it is hard to cross without the catalyst of a knife-bearer. In those years he has met few who interest him and fewer still who do not disappoint him in the end. He has almost never lived with another, the way Shiro has asked, and staring now into his sleeping face, knowing what the blending of their சோல் தீ means, he is afraid.

* * *

 

"I never said thank you." Keith's fingers trail over the supple leather sheath where it rests over his thighs and Shiro hums where he's curled in the armchair.

"For what?" he asks without looking at Keith where he's sitting on the couch. Keith rolls his eyes, watching Shiro pop another spoonful of triple cherry chunk (Not that he can judge, he's part way through his own pint and ice cream is _great_ ) into his mouth. He doesn't take the spoon out, leaving it hanging as he turns a page of the book he's reading.

"This." Keith's thumb smooths over the design on Shiro's gift and finally the man looks up, "It's beautiful." Keith's voice is quiet, he wants to explain what it mean to him, but he's never been great with that sort of thing and he's not sure a human would understand exactly what is happening to him.

In the two weeks he's spent with Shiro he's only grown gentler, Shiro's influences carving their way through his wall.

"You don't have to thank me. It was already-" He pauses, swallowing the ice cream still in his mouth, "-something I thought deserved protected and well, the sheath was too perfect. You were gone for a while and I thought at the very least I could keep your home safe." Shiro's cheeks have some color in them but he sounds steady as he looks at Keith.

"It can't be harmed, not by mortals." Keith says it automatically and Shiro nods, looking back to his book but the way his expression seemed to close a little leaves Keith feeling like he's mis-stepped. He squirms a little and sets the blade on the glass table, digging into his ice cream with renewed vigor as he tries to regain his balance.

The silence doesn't last long before Shiro closes his book and drops it beside the knife. He gives Keith a long look and the Djinn glares at him, there's no real heat though, his hearts not in it.

"You've seen Aladdin...what about other movies?"

Not what he expected but, "Uh, I mean I've seen a few. Kinda depends but mostly older stuff, last time I was around the girl thought it would be funny to watch movies with Djinn or uh, genies I guess."

Shiro nods firmly, "Alright. Do you like space?"

"Space?" Keith remembers distantly the calling of stars, the pleasure of the stories from the Galra. He remembers the bitter disappointment when he realized his new power would not carry him there, not without a wish and humans were far too concerned about their little lives.

"Yeah, stars and other worlds and all of- _oh."_ Shiro's excitement fades as he looks at Keith, remembering their talk of other races, "I guess you probably know a lot about it."

"Not so much? I-I really love the stars." He focuses on swirling his spoon in his pint but he can hear Shiro's relief and excitement pick back up and he has to fight a small smile.

"Great! Okay, so I'm going to say this; it's old and it's a bit awful but I think you'll have fun watching it, if you remember how old it is okay?"

Keith frowns at him, "What is it?"

Shiro holds up his hand solemnly, splitting his fingers so they form a v with two on either side and the thumb held apart, it's a kind of salute he guesses.

"Star Trek!"

Keith has heard of this, though only momentarily and he grins, it always sounded fun.

* * *

 

"Spock!" Shiro cries out, flinging his arm out and firing at the enemy where they're crouched across the bridge of their ship. Keith responds on his left with a convincing, "I can see it Captain."

A flurry of lights bounces around and Shiro is glad that Keith made them look exactly like the show because the cheesy effect keeps him grounded. When they fade their enemies, strange bluish creatures, lay stunned around the control console and Shiro hurries over to insert the self-destruct cancel code.

"Great job Captain Kirk!" Scotty crows electronically through the comms and Shiro grins, tugging his rumpled Star Fleet uniform straight. Keith, with slanted eyebrows and pointed ears, looks more like a Djinn now than ever even as he rapidly types into a retro computer.

"Captain the shipment is still on board."

"Good, good, let's uh-let's contact Star Fleet, have them send someone to meet us for containment. I'd call this mission a success Mr. Spock."

"Yes, although we can't say for sure until the shipment is contained."

Shiro laughs then and Keith grins widely, letting the spell go so their standing in Shiro's living room again, still in uniform.

"That was amazing Keith! Thank you!"

Keith shrugs, "Well it looked like you were really, really into the show and we've been watching it every night this week so-" He smiles, "I wanted to give you the uniform as a gift but it seemed better to do it this way."

Shiro stares, then looks back down at his outfit and grins, "This is for me?"

Keith nods, letting go of his appearance so he's once again just himself in a black shirt and soft black pants. Shiro touches the fabric on his chest, watching it clean itself so it's pristine with an awed look. He looks up again and steps closer.

"Can I-can I hug you?"

It's a strange thing, the way that Keith's heart leaps at the idea even as he frowns, he nods slowly. Shiro smiles and embraces him gently, arms warm as they wrap around his shoulders. It's a quick hug but it burns him just the same, without meaning too his vision shifts and he's surrounded by Shiro's சோல் தீ _._

If the weeks he had spent living with Shiro, tentatively going out to buy clothes and spending time catching up on anything Shiro deems important to know before really interacting, spending time with Matt and Pidge, hadn't impressed upon him just who Shiro was, this did.

Keith's soulmate is a human, a beautiful soft man who Keith could never hope to be worthy of and as Shiro stepped back, smiling softly, Keith's magic roared in his chest.

Flames lick over his arms as the feelings flare, Shiro's சோல் தீwinding through his own, tying them to each other with threads of fate. He knows that if Shiro learns the truth of it they'll be bound in full. The consequences of that make Keith recoil, he can not tie a human to himself, he could not curse Shiro that way.

Shiro who is watching him with surprise and some concern but no fear, even as flames course over him.

"Keith?"

"Shiro, I'm sorry."

He frowns and tries to ask but Keith leaves before he has a chance, vanishing into his pocket world within the blade. Usually there's a semblance of space, bedding or whatever Keith needs for comfort, now there is nothing but black and he let's himself float. Spending so much time with humans is corrupting him and he cannot afford to feel these things.

A soft haze of starlight silver enters the space and Keith shudders at the knowledge that Shiro is holding the knife, effectively holding him. It doesn't last long and Keith remembers he left it in the living room, so Shiro was probably just putting it away. He curls in on himself and not for the first time, the emptiness feels cold.

He'll stay here until Shiro makes his wishes.


	5. Flash Burn: Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point Keith had spent shy of 6 weeks with Shiro and has been in the blade for another three.
> 
> Also this chapter fought me every inch of the way and I'm pretty sure it shows *grumbles*

Shiro packs the papers he has to grade with a resigned sigh, certain that the brief essay about the theoretical impacts of binary stars on habitable planets are going to be a mess to try and get through. It had seemed like a good idea when he'd assigned the unit but now, with Keith still gone and his home feeling bleaker than ever, he knows it's going to drag.

Keith's been gone for weeks and Shiro can't shake the image of him circled in flames and wide-eyed with something like fear reflecting in his violet eyes. At first Shiro assumed perhaps he'd overstepped with his hug but after (over)thinking he figured that couldn't have been it or Keith wouldn't have allowed it. The conclusion drawn didn't lessen his concern any and his drive home from the university gave him too much time to focus on it.

He'd worked to keep things between them friendly but distant since the Djinn had been resistant to close contact, both physical and emotional. It had been harder than he expected as even small new things brought light to Keith's eyes and a new warmth to his smile. They hadn't spent much time together between Keith's first vanishing and Shiro's schedule but it had been precious to him just the same. Keith's blue and often purple eyes, his dark hair and the way he would switch language when English wasn't good enough for him had settled into Shiro's heart.

What if Keith never came back? What if he simply stayed in his blade until-until when? Shiro's brows furrow as he turns into his driveway. If Keith never comes back Shiro will keep his blade for the rest of his life and if he can he'll ensure that it's safe after he's gone. The thought is somewhere parallel to a comfort, but it's all Shiro can do for now. He promised to respect Keith's boundaries, aware the longer the Djinn had spent with him of how little that had happened in the past.

His house is quiet, as it always was and now is again. As soon as he sets his keys and bag down he takes a slow breath, the silence of his home cresting into too much even as he's barely in the door. He snatches his keys back up and goes straight back outside. Normally he'd call the Holts but they've been shut in their shared lab for several days and he's too familiar with their work binges to even try to interrupt.

So Shiro finds himself at  _The Kingfisher Lounge,_ a place he's never been and only barely registered exists, it's calm enough and he can get a drink with some noise around. He finds a seat in a rounded chair with a small table and takes a sip of cranberry juice. The low sound of conversation and pleasant music is soothing for a short time but looking around at tables with couples and friends only starts to further his isolation.

He's got friends but mostly they're work friends and he doesn't know how to breach that barrier with them. He finishes his juice and moves to stand.

"I was hoping you weren't leaving yet." A tall willowy man with long near-white hair says, setting his own martini on the table and offering a sharp smile, "I thought we might save each other from drinking alone."

It's a line if Shiro's ever heard one and he offers a cursory shake of his head, ready to leave still but the man isn't done.

"I'm not trying to hit on you. You are, of course, lovely, but I'm afraid my fiancé might take issue with it. They're out of town and I simply was hoping for some company."

Shiro pauses, he doesn't want to be alone and at the very least he might have nice conversation, he can always leave.

"Shiro." He offers his hand and the man seems relieved as he takes it.

"Lotor."

* * *

Dressed in soft blue pants and shirtless Shiro sits on the edge of his bed, Keith's knife is balanced across his thighs. He runs his fingers over the sheath softly, imagines that Keith can somehow tell he's doing it. It was only a little more than a month and so much of the time had been uncertainly dancing around each other but without Keith Shiro feels shockingly bereft.

"Keith." He whispers to the room, fingers curling around the blade, "I hope...I want you to know that I'm here if you need me."

* * *

"So, in essence, Fermat left us a solid puzzle for his own enjoyment and we're idiots for believing it."

Shiro snorts, his whiskey sour is half finished and Lotor is well into drink number three and has transitioned from rambling about ancient civilization to ranting about mathematicians. 

When he met Lotor, two weeks ago, he had found a lonely sort of kinship and despite the many differences between them, agreed to meet again, and again..and then again. He leans back, sipping his drink as Lotor waits for a more articulate response to his postulating.

"So, you think that a great mathematician scribbled some bullshit in a margin because he knew he was right but couldn't prove it and wanted to spite all of us?"

Lotor nods, lifting his glass and finishing it off.

"I mean, sounds fake but..."

Shiro chuckles in the face of the glare he receives and Lotor launches off again, "Oh, I see so that's too outlandish but you were willing to believe that Sumerians might have had extraterrestrial contact?"

With a careful shrug Shiro leans back in, "I mean, ancient people were highly innovative on their own, I'll give you that, but I mean, it's so unlikely that we're alone...why not wonder if maybe there was some outside help?"

"Fair. I have to make the argument though that outside help is highly unlikely and discredits the ingenuity of man."

Shiro has to resist the urge to roll his eyes, he doesn't know why he wants to convince Lotor of the truth. Maybe he just wants someone to talk to him about the past in a way that makes him feel closer to Keith, maybe it won't feel like an extended dream then.

"Fine, uh, hypothesize then?"

Lotor laughs and finishes his drink, "If we did have early visitors they either drifted by and if anything dropping some garbage off and poked at us in idle curiosity only to determine that we were useless or-" He pauses and his expression settles into something a little older, a little too familiar in it's oddity and Shiro suppresses the urge to scoot away.

"-Or they might have been here before we had evolved, maybe they even watched us crawl from the roots of our primate ancestors and observed as we became something different. Maybe they weren't alone, maybe before us this Earth had other inhabitants who were wreathed in magic and who facilitated human development."

Shiro blinks, it's not exact but it's close to what Keith said of the truth and he opens his mouth to ask, knowing that his eyes are wide and his expression is not exactly as calm as he'd like. Lotor eases quickly though and laughs before he can speak, "Of course that's if you believe certain insane theories."

Shiro schools himself and forces a laugh, "That is wild."

It catches him off-guard how much it aches to know and not be able to share, how much he misses Keith and the odd guilt he feels over his interactions with Lotor. He clears his throat and finishes his drink, taking stock carefully and deciding he'll be alright to walk home. It is why he chose the  _Kingfisher_ for a second meeting, it's not far from home.

"I have to get going. I did find those books I mentioned last time also, on how sexualized concepts of ancient peoples and art may be incorrect. I've read them a couple of time so if you want them I could bring them for next time?" Shiro offers politely but also he really would like to do this again. Lotor may be a different sort of abrasive than Shiro usually prefers but he's been decent company and the conversation is deeper than just the weather.

"I would enjoy them I'm sure, but how about I stop by and pick them up sometime instead? You had said that you lived close?"

Shiro isn't certain about having the man over, but he supposes if Lotor was going to murder him or something he'd had enough opportunity over drinks and it's not like Shiro lives removed from people. His neighborhood isn't crowded but it is close to a neat little pocket of business and there's plenty of foot traffic nearby.

"Sure. I'll send you my address. Good Night Lotor."

"Safe travels, Professor."

* * *

"Keith." Shiro is whispering again, the blade unsheathed and flat against his chest.

It feels both intimate and ridiculous, talking to the object and hoping that the Djinn can hear him. Shiro wonders if maybe he's imagined a lot of it, if maybe Keith never existed at all. He closes his eyes, shaking the thoughts, he  _knows._

"You were real." He is breathing hard, the room is dark and his sleep won't find him between the sudden fears.

"You  _are_ real. You're the easiest person in a room to see, the easiest to talk to. I'm not crazy. I didn't dream you...God I didn't dream you." Shiro hears the break in his own voice, the thickness of the words as his throat works around the panic settling over him. He couldn't have invented it, he refuses to believe that.

Keith is a fire, incandescent and something beyond Shiro's dark corner. He carried with him something that brought more well, more, to Shiro's days. Maybe it was just the disruption of company that didn't walk on eggshells after everything, maybe it was just the way that Keith had made him feel. Whatever it was Shiro wants it back.

"Please, Keith. I-I want to know you're alright at least?" He closes his eyes and hopes. He sits like that for a long time, patient as ever. The silence doesn't change, there's no electric shift in the air and he knows, even as he clings to hope, that Keith won't be there when he opens his eyes again.

Shiro  _promised_ that he wouldn't disturb him, but Keith had looked unlike himself. He'd been near frightened and Shiro couldn't just leave him alone with his fear. He slowly pulls the blade free of it's sheath and stares at the light bouncing off the metal, the lamp beside his bed washing him in a yellow glow. Even if Keith doesn't trust him so much after, and any trust Shiro has gained is immeasurably precious to him, at least he'll know the Djinn is alright.

Pulling in a deep breath Shiro flicks his thumb against the sharp edge of the blade again, watching the red of his blood roll, he catches it before it touches the leather and slides the knife home again.

"Shirogane." Keith's voice is icy and Shiro shoves down the well of hurt, he knew what might happen.

"Keith-" the name is a breath on his lips as he takes in the Djinn, dark hair falling around his face and eyes gone violet and tired. He's wreathed in his magic, a visible miasma for once, and Shiro swallows hard, "I'm sorry."

Keith's skin appears almost violet with how saturated he is with power and his expression gives nothing away, "What is it you wish?"

Back to this. Shiro runs a hand through his hair, "I don't have a wish. I just wanted to know you were okay, you looked-"

"If you have not decided yet I'll take my leave."

"No!" Shiro can't help the sharp panic and Keith's face darkens so he scrambles to amend the shout, "Please, just...wait a moment. You can go if you really want to, I just wanted to ask you something."

Keith doesn't vanish so Shiro pushes on, or tries to, but Keith's expression makes him nervous and he shifts around on the bed, "How long are you going to stay away?"

"As long as I must." Keith doesn't hesitate in his answer and Shiro closes his eyes, breathing in harshly. He doesn't know what to do, why Keith drew away so hard and fast.

"Will you tell me what I did?" He doesn't look, he doesn't know if he can face whatever is in Keith's lovely eyes as the Djinn makes a series of sounds that he can't even begin to decipher. It sounds beautiful and sends a thrill over his spine, like the first time he'd made those sounds.

"Please Keith, I don't know what that means and I-You're the best thing that's come into my life in so long and I want so badly to help you. Whatever it was, let me try to fix it, let me try to change it." Shiro knows his sleep deprivation and lowliness are speaking for him, but it's more his affection for Keith that has only grown stronger since the Djinn vanished again.

"Thou cannot help what thou art."

The archaic phrasing makes him open his eyes finally and Shiro simply can't stay still, not when Keith looks like he's made of glass so suddenly, his hands shuddering and his magic crawling over his skin like he can't keep it contained. He pushes off the bed, gently laying the knife to the side as he moves and he tries not to react as Keith flinches away from him.

"Nay." His voice is shaking and his eyes are huge as he holds his hands out in front of him, swirling power flickering over his fingers. Shiro know it might burn him and he reaches anyways, careful pressing the palm of his flesh hand over the stretched fingers of one of Keith's, not with any real intent or force, not holding, but just resting against his fingertips. Keith's frame shudders but he doesn't pull away and Shiro curls his hand closed over the tops of Keith's fingers, a strange hold that Keith could step away from without effort.

"Shiro, I-" Keith's words devolve into what sounds like Arabic but Shiro doesn't let go, just keeps staring into Keith's eyes. When Keith runs out of words Shiro is gritting his teeth against the buzzing of magic scraping against his skull and Keith looks exhausted.

"Can I hug you?" Keith simply nods and lets his arms fall, the red and violet swirling around him slowing until it drifts up from his skin like steam and Shiro shivers as he folds his arms around Keith. His prosthetic drapes over lean shoulders and his flesh arm wraps around his waist, just holding him as much as he can and he can't help the way he shudders as the swirling energy leaps between them, sweeping over his own skin and coloring them in a nebula of their own. 

Keith's head is tucked against his chest and the fingers of one hand are curled into a fist over Shiro's heart, the other hangs by his side and it's...Shiro can't breathe right when Keith finally raises his head to look at him and the magic that's surrounding them seems to pulse and  _sing._

 _"_ Stay, please. God please." Shiro can barely form the words with the overwhelming sense of belonging that pours over him as he looks into Keith's eyes but he has to ask. Keith seems as caught as he is and his head lolls to the side as he gazes up at Shiro, his arm slowly raising to return the embrace. He looks amazing and Shiro can  _feel_ his answer, like he could feel Keith weeks ago when he was hurt by the Djinn's anger.

" _If that's what you wish."_

Shiro shakes his head and to his horror he can feel wetness in his eyes, "I won't. I won't wish anything Keith. You- _fuck-_ you deserve to chose what your magic does, to have wishes of your own."

Keith stares up at him, eyes bleeding full of yellow fire and expression pulling into something like wonder and Shiro only has a second to see it before he gasps, the feeling of Keith's conscious colliding with him in full, deeper than it had before.

* * *

He is small, so small. His mother is eating popcorn with him as they watch the cherry blossoms, the texture is strange on his tongue, different than the snacks he's used to, something odd for him. He turns away from the window and when he looks back he's a little bigger. The window is an open area in a circle of odd rock formations, awash in lavender light, his mother is both not his mother and exactly his mother with her pointed ears and sharp smile.

"Krolia, he is too young." The words are at once perfectly audible and so strange they have no meaning.

"No, my Kit is ready."

He steps toward the stones.

He holds a large fish carefully wrapped to his chest, cheeks red in the cool air as he follows his father back from the market, his hat slipping down a little as he carries his prize. The house is warm but he doesn't let go of the fish, he caught it himself after all, he wants to make his mother dinner with it.

He wipes the blood carefully from his hands, proud of himself for bringing home enough meat for everyone. It's not his naming day yet but he want's to provide for them and he hurries, hopeful that he might help prepare it.

He stands with a smile, his feet planted wide and his best friends arm over his shoulder, he is going to graduate top of his class and his parent's are going to be so proud. He's in the hospital when his Jiji comes and sits slowly beside him, face drawn as he explains that there will be no proud parent's in the crowd. 

He's calm, breathing slowly as Antok steps toward him, blade held in a fool's guard. He's no fool and Antok won't win any easy hits that way, his fingers throb from an earlier hit, distraction has cost him a fingernail but he's lasted longer than the other kits even though he's the smallest and he hopes his father is watching. He's in the clearing again, panting as his claws push forth and his mouth bleeds where his fangs cut, his eyes burn like his chest, his father didn't come back from patrol, their enemies have finally taken something precious to him and he  _hates._

America is so very different, at first it's hard to know what is friendly and what is cruelty waiting for a moment of weakness but eventually he learns. Learns that if he excels he is rewarded and doesn't have to try so hard to blend in, his foreignness excused in light of his success. So he soars, best pilot in years, on a path to the stars if he plays his hand right and he intends to.

Zarkon ruined  _everything_  and he helped. He floats alone in the dark with mind-shredding guilt, lonely and empty and suffering. His mother's face, her strong features twisted in fear as she begged to save him, fills the spaces in between until finally, finally, someone bleeds and he breathes real air again.

A routine flight, he takes off smoothly, guides the jet easily and grins at Matt who's along for what is, essentially, a joy ride. It's a simple test flight and it pulls joy from him and he whoops, rolling them through the air in a controlled and perfectly allowed loop. His stomach drops and an error light flickers on.

One last wish and he can be free to live and love, a light sentence all things considered. He is pleased and light with his joy as he idles at his lover's side, the day is nice and he can't help the little flutter of magic at his fingertips. His title catches his ear and the negotiations turn.

Metal grinding, screetching, wind sucking and Matt yelling. It's hot and cold and  _hurthurthurtsfear._

Hands all over, his own magic holding him pliant, men laughing, it's numbing and excruciating and  _hurthurthurtsfear._

* * *

Shiro lives his life again, or maybe it's Keith, or both and neither. Whichever the experiences fill him until he is a cup that overflows, though he would have thought it would be more violent. Instead he just feels as though he's lived a hundred lives, all of them with Keith. It's strange but suddenly he knows so much of the beautiful Djinn that fell in his lap, so much he can't process it all. It leaves him soaked in sweat, clinging to Keith who doesn't seem to be breathing as he clings back, they are sprawled on the floor in a tangle and every piece of glass in the room is powdered around them, the walls are covered in soot and burnt moss replaces the flooring. 

He doesn't speak, just gasps for air until it becomes clear he's hyperventilating. Keith still doesn't move but his fingers are tipped in claws and they flex rhythmically, pricking at Shiro's skin with every curl. 

"Keith?" Shiro manages, not that it sounds like words with how his lungs work against him and Keith looks at him, eyes still burning yellow, "Takashi."

Relief flutters in Shiro's mind but doesn't get a chance to bloom because his vision is going funny now and Keith looks panic-wild still. 

"Rest." Keith says, though it sounds strangled, and Shiro is helpless to resist but he knows that Keith won't leave this time. 

* * *

Waking is not a slow process, Shiro's eyes snap open and he sits up hard, sucking in air. Everything aches and he figures this must be what it feels like to have been electrocuted, all his muscles sore from how hard they'd clenched in the onslaught of memories. Keith is beside him, sitting with his shoulders pressed to the headboard and his dark hair spilling around his face.

"Hey." Shiro rasps, clearing his throat, "You alright?"

Keith snorts and looks up, his magic is no longer visible and like this he looks like a young man whose been through the ringer. It makes sense and Shiro shoves aside the flashes of memory that cling to Keith's features. He can't afford to get caught in the thought of that soft face twisted in pain or in what he's certain he'd seen of Keith's past or he's not going to be able to keep himself in check.

"I'm surprised you're up." A hand touches his forehead, pushing his sweaty bangs back, "It's hard to take that kind of mental onslaught...I'm sorry it hurt you. I don't know what caused it this time, I didn't reach for you like before. I'm so-"

Shiro catches his hand as it drops, "Don't. I'm not sorry it happened Keith. I was worried about you before but I think...I think I get it now. You've been a Djinn for a long time, longer than I could ever understand." Keith nods, "But before that you were just a person, not a human but close enough. I'm glad that I got to see those parts of you. If there's anything to say sorry for it's intruding, I wi-" Shiro bites off the word but Keith doesn't even notice, "I hoped that you would tell me those things, share those memories, with me in time because you wanted to, not because magic made you. So, I'm sorry for seeing so much and I promise I'll never tell anyone else."

Keith is staring at him and a small smile starts to pull at his mouth, "You are the strangest thing I've ever encountered."

Shiro rolls his eyes, "Back to formality? At least it's modern."

Keith laughs, a tiny little thing, "O woe that thou canst but ponder the words I spake."

Shiro grumbles and rolls to a proper sitting position instead of half-propped and pokes at Keith's leg, "I was worried you know."

"I know. I'm sure you saw why I needed to leave." Keith doesn't look away from him but Shiro can feel him withdraw a little and sighs.

"There was...a lot? I don't know the specifics of everything we shared, I don't think my human mind could hold on to all of it, but I do know that whatever it was scared you," Keith looks so sad at the admission and Shiro cups his cheek, "I know it scared you because it made you hope and I felt," He forces himself to take a deep breathe because it had been overwhelming, "I felt  _everything._  I feel the same you know, we were both swirled up in there and I think I could lo-"

The doorbell rings and Keith draws back, Shiro curses but he's not about to leave things unsaid so he ignores it, taking Keith's wrist, "I could love you, if you let me."

Keith's eyes are huge and he turns his hand, fingers brushing the underside of Shiro's wrist, "You hardly know me."

"I know enough to see that you're someone who could be, who is already, dear to me."

They stare at each other and the doorbell rings again. Shiro huffs and smiles a little, "I guess I have to get that." 

He shifts and groans, his head is full of conflicting images and his body hurts and he just wants to lay here and look at Keith and absorb things. It's got to be something important though, no one comes to Shiro's for anything else (except the Holts but they just walk in). Keith nods and hesitantly reaches for him, magic dancing along his fingers again, he pauses, head tilting and Shiro nods.

The touch drips warm honey over him and he sighs gratefully as it eases enough of the tension for him to gather himself. He makes his way to the front door, calling out, "One moment!" as he goes.

He pulls the door open and is greeted by a somewhat annoyed looking Lotor.

"Oh! The-the books!" Shiro blurts, watching Lotor's eyebrows climb. With Keith back he'd forgotten about the other man quickly and curses himself for it, Keith or no he really needs more friends and being rude isn't helping.

"Were you busy?" Lotor asks it with a gesture as though he can leave but he still steps into the house and Shiro moves for him.

"I was, uh, working something out. Sorry, I'm not usually-" He waves a hand at himself, realizing that he's in his pajamas, covered in drying sweat and he has no idea what time it is.

Lotor hums noncommittally and Shiro is reminded he needs to grab the books he promised, "Uh, they're in my room, let me just-" He jerks his head and Lotor nods, hands dipping into the pockets of his perfectly fitted slacks, he's even in a pressed button up and Shiro almost feels under-dressed in his own home. He escapes back to his room, blinking away the overlapping images of the hall, his memories and Keith's bleeding together.

Keith is still sitting on the bed, staring at the wall, but he looks at Shiro with a frown and Shiro shakes his head.

"Just someone I've been meeting up with for coffee, I promised I'd lend him a couple of books." He pauses and brushes Keith's cheek with his knuckles, "I'm trying to make more friends but mostly I was just trying to distract myself so I'd stop missing you."

Keith's frown eases but doesn't leave as Shiro steps away, bending to search his small bookshelf.

"Will he leave after he gets them? I want to talk to you properly."

Shiro doesn't turn around to answer, "Yeah. I think he just dropped by for them but even if he wanted to talk or something I hardly look like I'm ready to do anything but shower and sleep anyways."

Footsteps in the hall make him scowl as he pulls the titles into a neat pile in his arms, he hates when people try to come into his space uninvited and he certainly meant Lotor to stay in the living room.

"Professor?" Lotor's bored voice floats into the room and Shiro notes two things at once, he's stopped walking toward them, and Keith has gone so still he might not be breathing again. He turns to Shiro with his teeth gritted, "Make him leave. Shiro, please."

Shiro nods sharply, unsure why a stranger puts Keith so on edge. He makes it the few steps to the bedroom door and no further as Lotor decides to finish his unwelcome stroll down the hall, filling the doorway. He doesn't look at Shiro at all, instead his eyes are focused on Keith who is shuddering and making a low sound in his throat that Shiro would call a warning growl if that didn't make him feel insane.

"Well now, we knew he had you but I didn't think the Professor had woken my favorite little whore just yet." Lotor's voice drips false warmth and he steps toward Keith, making the Djinn roll fluidly away until he stood on the other side of the bed, poised to defend.

"Keith?" Shiro's voice is soft as he looks between them.

"The worst parts of what you saw Shiro?" Keith's voice is rough and hissing, his attention fixed on Lotor where he stands deceptively relaxed and smirking slightly.

The images of men's faces and dirt pressing into his cheek, fire pouring down his spine and raw fear and humiliation mixing with the compulsion of his own power, the scent of sex and the knowledge the end was still so far off. Shiro will never be able to forget it, even though he's been trying to ignore it. Swallowing bile he gives Keith an affirmative noise.

"He made that wish."

In the space of a blink Shiro's perspective of the somewhat quirky Ancient civ enthusiast and business man that he met in a coffee shop sinks into something ancient and sticky with black-hearted intentions. He drops the books and puts himself in front of Keith, a bed between Lotor and himself and raises his chin defiantly.

Lotor stares at them and then shrugs, stepping back toward the hall, "Don't worry sweetling, I'll be seeing you soon enough. Do try to leave the Professor at home next time?"

He's gone before Shiro can process the threat and he lets it go, whirling around to gather Keith tightly in his arms.

"I didn't know. I didn't see him in your head or I wouldn't have let him in."

Keith doesn't respond, just presses close. Slowly, Shiro coaxes him into the bathroom, not wanting to leave him alone or be separated but desperately needing a shower. They take turns, one sitting on the toilet while the other washes and then climb into bed.

Neither of them realize the pretty leather sheath on the bedside table is empty.


End file.
